top of page
  • Writer's pictureTodd Stevens


As a parent, sometimes I find myself in quiet times, lonely times, times of solitude, remembering, recalling, wondering… I remember the times I failed, the times I said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, to the wrong child. I remember all my shortcomings, the anger, the discipline that was too soft, or too hard. The understanding…that wasn’t communicated, or wasn’t there at all. I think back on those shrinking little kids, withering under those harsh words, and the deeds both done, and not done that hurt and caused pain, and damaged my children. Those long lonely moments at night when I’m walking in the dark and something sparks a memory of an incident, a moment, a few seconds of time that could have been handled so differently, where the words I chose could have been healing and loving, and understanding…and they just weren’t. In those moments of sad recollection, the pain I feel is so real and painful that I have a difficult time navigating through it. All I want to know is if I did enough, do they know I love them? Are they able to see past my flaws, which are deep, and ugly, and so visible, can they see past those awful traits and see how much I love them? That’s all I want from them is to know that I want nothing else but for them to know I love them, I don’t even need it returned… Those awful moments of wondering, those awful moments when I doubt, and all I can remember is the bad, and the missed opportunities to communicate something better, and higher, got me thinking about my own parents. They’re human just like I am. Do they wonder some of the same things I do? I’m sure they do, I think we all do on some level. I need to say this..I always knew. No matter the discipline, too hard, too soft, no matter the moment, too big, or too small, no matter the day, no matter the night, no matter the accusation, or accuser, no matter the win, no matter the loss, no matter the triumph, and no matter the failure, I always knew.

27 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

It started innocently enough. A friend and I found an unopened bottle of wine. At first we were going to give it to our parents, after all we were only 12 years old…but the closer we got to home, the

In the early to mid 80's I used to brave the mid-winter cold in Montana to fish for Whitefish in the Bitterroot river. The winter temperatures from the mid 70's to mid 80's were some of the coldest ev

One hot dusty summer day in 1993 I loaded my oldest 3 kids up and we went fishing at a secret pond I’d heard about. After 3 or 4 wrong turns ,dead ends, and a dozen curse words, we finally found the r

bottom of page